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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576404">Stan or Stella</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/pseuds/TheEmpressAR'>TheEmpressAR</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Laurel and Hardy (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Secret Admirer, cross dressing, in too deep, really a man, unintended deception</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:35:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/pseuds/TheEmpressAR</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan Laurel feels sorry for the Lonely Oliver Hardy that frequents the bar/nightclub where he works.  He knows Ollie is desperate to find love and wants to make his new friend happy.  To what lengths will he go...and will he lose himself in the process?  He's put into one sticky situation after another...and it had only started as an innocent way to make someone feel good about themselves.  Things get worse when he realizes he's fallen in love...and is jealous of...himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oliver Hardy/Stan Laurel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I always love it when Stanny dresses up as a woman.  He's so adoramable and cute!!  I highly recommend watching "Why Girl's Love Sailors" and "That's My Wife" for the inspiration as to what he looks like in this story :)  Please let me know in the comments if you want MORE!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oliver Norvell Hardy sat lonely and dejected at a corner table at The Pink Pup.  He occasionally glanced up at the happy crowds of dancers and merry makers, before heaving another weary sigh and returning to stare down at his table running a stout finger in a figure eight pattern over the cloth...a dismal look seemingly etched permanently on his countenance. He longed to be one of the people in that crowd.  He longed to have one of the many beautiful dancing girls on his arm just as all the other men had on theirs.  He looked again at the smiling faces of love or inebriation lighting up their eyes and continued to sigh loudly to himself.  </p><p> </p><p>Stan Laurel looked up from his position at the bar.  He had been cutting glances all night at the solitary man sitting in the corner with his shoulders sagging and his face almost buried in his half empty drink.  This had been the third night in a row he had seen the man come in and basically follow the same procedure.  He tried to act nonchalant and continue wiping down the bar and serving up beer to the patrons.  Prohibition had just ended and there were a lot of thirsty customers around. He was making money hand over fist and mug over mug.  It had been a fine decision he decided and he didn’t mind the long hours or the demand for more, more and more booze. Whatever it took to turn a profit.  </p><p> </p><p>He stopped wiping down the bar, distracted again.  His barback, Charlie was refilling the mug rack and picking up the empties that were left on the bar's spacious top.  He noticed his coworker daydreaming again.  He had to remind him more than once that the boss was always around and wanted productive workers and even more productive customers.  If a customer had an empty glass, there were more of his pockets to fill.  </p><p> </p><p>“Psst...Hey Stanley...look sharp.” </p><p> </p><p>Stan shook himself out of his reverie of watching the man at the table smile every time a pretty girl walked past him and then watch his face just as instantly fall when the girl kept walking or wouldn’t even look his way when he tried to make a polite inquisition on her health.  He watched the man pick at the table cloth and stare out into the dancing crowd of people. </p><p> </p><p>“Say...Charlie…who’s that fella over there at the table?”  </p><p> </p><p>Charlie was busying himself dumping ashtrays and gave a quick glance to where Stan had indicated.  Sure he’d seen the guy there a time or two before, but he never said nothin’ to him.  Man just usually paid for some drinks and left when the place was about to close up.  Same hangdog look on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, Stanny boy...you know just about as much as I do...you’ve seen him over in that corner just drinking and trying his luck.  Poor guy can’t seem to catch a break with the ladies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe he doesn’t need a lady…” Stan remarked out loud.  He almost didn’t realize he said that until he saw Charlie looking at him funny.  “Uh...what I mean is…” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t wanna know what you mean…”  Charlie frowned and picked up another wet towel.  “You better keep that talk to yourself if you know what’s good for you.” </p><p> </p><p>Stan looked at Charlie and frowned.  He didn’t like what the other man was implying and he didn’t say anything of the sort of what he was thinking Charlie was thinking.  He gave one last confused and concerned look to the man sitting at the table in the shadows and tried to put him out of his head.  </p><p> </p><p>The next night...the same thing happened.  And the next night.  And the next.  </p><p> </p><p>The man would come in.  Stan would start anticipating him.  He would watch the door now.  Looking to see if his hapless customer would arrive...and he usually did...about the same time every night.  Stan would watch his progression.  Sometimes he could almost set his watch to it.  The man at the table would start off jolly and happy.  He would smile and tease and get up and go to other tables if there was a pretty lady or two sitting there.  He would remark about this or that (Stan tried to read his lips a couple of times, but the club was often too dark inside to see just what was going on) but he could imagine by the way the man’s shoulders would eventually slump and how he would turn away from the tables or the girl’s that walked by and find his usual, familiar spot back at his own.  </p><p> </p><p>“That’s it, Charlie...I’m going to find out who he is tonight.” </p><p> </p><p>“You do that, Laurel...all he does is that same routine anyway...and I’m sick of the show.  I need a new plot.”  Charlie laughed and dumped some ashtrays.  He stalked back off to the kitchen to get another supply of glasses.  </p><p> </p><p>With a look of determination, Stan filled a mug of beer and smoothed out his starched white apron.  He scruffed his tousled head, a little nervous to approach his customer, and that kind of set him aback.  He usually never had problems talking to his customers.  It was a part of the job and came with the territory that you had to at least be congenial to your patrons.  But this time, Stan hesitated.  His hand had a slight tremble to it as he almost nearly talked himself out of his resolution to meet this man.  What was it? </p><p> </p><p>Ollie sat slouched in his chair.  He was pretty much ready to give up on this ploy of meeting women at the club.  Maybe it just wasn’t the right type of woman he was looking for here.  Maybe he should be trying to find one at the grocer’s or at the library or even where he worked.  He knew it was foolish to think he was as dashing or flirtatious as some of the other gentlemen suitors in this place...besides they all seemed to have found the women they wanted beforehand and were just showing them a good time here.  </p><p> </p><p>He couldn't believe that completely though, because there were several pretty options that he knew were all personally coming there to find themselves a good date and possibly more.  He wanted to know these women.  He wanted to have fun and be romantic and silly and have a good time.  He wanted someone to spoil.  He wanted to bring someone flowers and call them Sugar Plum and Apple Dumpling and whisper poetry to them and show them that they were the only one for him.  He wanted to see a beautiful face smile back at him with love in her eyes that was only meant to be shining for him. Oliver Hardy had it bad.  It was unfair.  Life was unfair.  He sighed.  </p><p> </p><p>He blinked twice as a drink came sailing past and landing abruptly and perfectly in front of him on the table.  The liquid only sloshed a little and he marveled at it for a second before looking up into a proud and smiling face of someone who knows he has a talent and is very smug about it.  Ollie raised an eyebrow at him.  </p><p> </p><p>“Thought you could use one.” </p><p> </p><p>“What gave you that idea?” </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno...you don’t seem to have one in front of you now and...by the way you look I thought you could use it to pick your chin up off the table.”  He laughed a little giggle at his own joke.  </p><p> </p><p>“Huh...I guess when it’s any of your business...I’ll ask you to mind it.”  Ollie said, getting annoyed.  </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get steamed.  I just thought you might like another one...since you’ve only had your usual two so far.  It’s on the house.”  </p><p>Ollie looked at him then.  Really looked at him.  How did this...Oh...he’s the bartender he’s seen here on a few occasions.  He must have been totally preoccupied with his mission that he failed to notice that he was being studied so carefully.  In the dimly lit room, he took in the man in front of him.  Tall and slender.  Long face, bright blue eyes. Very innocent features.   Tuft of hair sticking in any direction at the top of his head.  Neat and tidy jacketless suit with a string bow tie firmly in place and an impeccable, immaculate apron.  He was a neat mess all the way around.  He smiled shyly back at Ollie who realized he had been staring for half a second too long.  </p><p> </p><p>“Stan…” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”  </p><p> </p><p>“That’s my name...in case you were wondering.” </p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t, but thank you.”  Ollie said, rolling his eyes.  There was something almost too endearing about the man right off the bat and that put Ollie off guard.  He seemed extra sure of himself.  </p><p> </p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”<br/><br/></p><p>“Well usually when someone tells someone their name...they usually give it back...usually.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh…” Ollie laughed as if he had almost forgotten his name. “Oliver…” </p><p> </p><p>“Ollie...that’s a nice name.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oliver.”</p><p> </p><p>“Say...Ollie...why is it you come here alone all the time?  I mean if you don’t mind my asking?  I figure a nice fella like you would have many girls getting your attention.” </p><p> </p><p>Ollie gaped at Stan like a fish out of water.  He opened and closed his mouth.  He looked off into the distance and then down at the table.  So many things were going through his head but it took all of his patience not to scream at the idiot in front of him and tell him to leave him alone.  He didn’t like feeling like being kicked when he was down.  </p><p> </p><p>Stan looked oblivious and promptly sat down beside Ollie in the chair next to him.  </p><p> </p><p>“Shouldn’t you be working?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m on break.” </p><p> </p><p>“Are you supposed to be fraternizing?”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s frater...that thing you just said?”</p><p> </p><p>“It means I’m here trying to have a good time and you’re ruining it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Huh...if this is what you call having a good time.” </p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh...nothing...nothing...it’s just I’ve been working here a very long time and I’ve never seen someone have as “good of a time” like you…”  Stan cocked his head and still remained innocent.  Inside he was wanting to know so much more about him...if he was playing with fire he wanted to see it spark in his eyes and see how far he could go before getting burned.  </p><p> </p><p>Ollie looked at him and clenched and unclenched his fists.  He was about two seconds away from thumping the other man upside his dizzy little head, but then his shoulders slumped and he returned back to his resigned demeanor.  </p><p> </p><p>“Now that’s not what I was expecting at all…”</p><p>“How would you know?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well I’ve seen ya, of course…” </p><p> </p><p>“Well then you would have known it hasn’t been exactly <em> easy </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Stan studied him for a minute.  He now had a better look this up close and personal.  There was nothing really wrong with him as far as Stan could see.  Sure...he was a little overweight.  But that probably meant he was extra soft and cuddly.  Like a big teddy bear.  He couldn’t help his mind from wandering away from him for a second before returning to size Ollie up.  Nice large brown eyes with a hint of sadness in their depths.  Round cheeks and well groomed hair, neatly parted to the side.  His attire was a neat and pressed black suit with tie and a bowler hat sat next to him on the table.  There was a compelling something to him that Stan was beginning to find irresistible.  He had to think about why he felt like this later...but he definitely didn’t want to let Ollie go before making sure that they would see each other again.  </p><p> </p><p>He looked up and saw his boss frowning at him from the kitchen...he had started making his way over, side-stepping patrons and checking on their well-being before continuing to make a beeline towards Stan.  Stan swallowed hard.  He knew he’d get chewed out big time for sitting at a table while on the clock instead of taking his break outside with the other workers.  Ollie was still waiting on an answer but it would have to be a quick one.  </p><p> </p><p>“Well...they don’t know what they’re missing. All I know is I certainly wouldn’t refuse you...if you asked.”  He stood up quickly from his chair...and made a hasty retreat back to his post.  He didn’t turn around to see the stunned look and the blush that rose to Ollie’s cheeks as he watched the enigmatic bartender busy himself quickly once again at the bar.  He saw the manager go up to him and begin waving his arms and pointing his finger in Stan’s face.  He saw Stan’s face crumple and almost cry but pull himself back together.  He saw the manager push Stan back towards the kitchen, most likely to be chewed out some more.  </p><p> </p><p>Ollie spent the rest of his evening, thinking about what Stan had just said.  He didn’t see the quirky bartender the rest of the night and after about an hour he picked up his hat and left.  </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ollie has to know...just what did Stan mean?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Oliver Hardy sat at his desk in The Law Offices of Dewey, Chetham and Howe and puzzled over some of the files that had started piling up on the desk.  He couldn’t seem to concentrate on his work that day.  The night before had been bothering him.  He had gone home and even paced his floors for a time.  ‘What did he mean?’  He shook his head more times than he could count, trying to dismiss the lanky bartender who forcefully inserted himself into the picture and refused to take his rudeness for an answer.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He flipped through a few files and looked up at the clock.  It was about 5 P.M. and almost time to call it a day.  He was debating on whether or not to go back to the club tonight.  Maybe if he went there for one last chance, this would be the night he would meet his sweetheart and they could live happily ever after.  Those thoughts pushed the scrawny little pipsqueak’s weird words far away from his mind and he chuckled and rubbed his hands together.  He could almost see his fair lady sitting at the bar waiting for his arrival.  He could see her dazzling smile and her rosy cheeks and Ollie became giddy.  He hurriedly packed up his briefcase and shoved the remaining files into his desk drawer.  He rushed to the front door of the office and paused for a moment to chuck his finger under the chin of the receptionist who blushed and giggled.  She thought Oliver was a sweet man, but she had a fiancé and Oliver really wasn’t her type.  But she was still kind to the man who could never seem to find someone to love, and she felt sorry for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Gladys!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Mr. Hardy!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stanley was in a haze all day.  He kept mentally kicking himself for the words he had spoken the night before.  Long gone was the confidence that had built up as he had blurted them out.  *</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know he’s never going to come back here again...you know that right?*</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What does it matter?  Why should I be worried about that?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*I dunno...you’re thinking it so you must…*</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re ridiculous...I don’t care...I can go and get anyone.  I can go and see anyone.  He doesn't bother me. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*He doesn’t?*</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO...he doesn’t!!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No who doesn’t?”  Charlie said as he heard the shout from the other end of the bar.  Stanley shook himself and looked at Charlie and grinned sheepishly.  He shrugged and went back to making sure that there was plenty of liquor stocked up for the evening’s patrons.  He tried to pretend to be very interested in counting the number of gin bottles on the shelf but in the back of his mind he was starting to worry again.  “What if he never comes back?”  He muttered quietly to himself.  He had grown used to seeing the pudgy, soft looking man come in night after night.  He wanted to know him more just from the brief conversation they had had.  He wanted to draw him out and...he didn’t know…maybe help him in some way.  He wanted to see him happy.  For the life of him...he didn’t know why.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned as he thought to himself… Well...if he never comes back then good riddance… He nodded his head in affirmation.  He was starting to bug me anyway.  He steeled himself into settling on the matter when he turned and nearly bumped into his boss who had been standing there for some time with his hands on his hips and squinting hard at Stanley.  Stan half smiled at him and tried to edge his way around him.  He didn’t want to hear anything from his harsh taskmaster tonight.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...And don’t be gettin’ fresh with the customers tonight…” Stan caught the tail end of his lecturing.  “You’re here to pour drinks and take money.  This is not your party, Boy-O!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir…”  Stan said a little lisping.  He always had problems with his “S’s”.  It made his speech patterns very unique.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you listening?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Sir.”  He went on to make sure there were plenty of coins in the till.  The boss grunted something, not sure Stan really had been listening and moved off to the kitchen.  He needed to sort the wait staff out next.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that evening, The Pink Pup was starting to fill up with the usuals.  The rowdy customers, the flashy ladies and their beaus, the musicians playing their standard tunes to get everyone out on the dance floor to forget their troubles.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan was busy filling lots of glasses that night.  There seemed to be more people in here every evening...especially during the time of The Great Depression.  Everyone wanted to drown their sorrows in a bottle or a glass.  It seemed everyone had a nickel to spare for some booze.  Stan was so occupied that he didn’t notice that someone had come in and had taken a seat at the end of the bar.  He had been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few times he had become so overwhelmed he almost started crying.  Charlie had seen him about to break down and ran to his aid.  He picked up several of the glasses of beer that kept flowing from the never-ending tap that Stan was constantly yanking on and distributed them to the roaring crowd that was demanding more and more.  Stan smiled gratefully at him and turned his attention back to the clamoring crowd and took more orders.  He was too busy to think about whether or not Ollie would show up that night but every time he thought of him or his name he would glance at the door or at the spot where he normally sat and wince.  He was not there yet.  He tried to quiet the voice in the back of his head that he had in fact, blown it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost didn’t hear the quiet clearing of a throat, trying to gain his attention.  He had been busy making a few Shirley Temples…(a relatively new drink named after the cute little girl in the pictures) when he thought he caught the sound.  He picked his head up and stared at the end of the bar where the noise had come from and almost visibly fainted in relief.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver had been sitting there for some time...just watching Stan work.  He noticed the quick ease and light footedness the other man had.  It was almost like a dance to him.  Passing out drinks and catching things from his bar-back and taking people’s money...all in the same motion.  He was impressed.  He watched the fluidity of the dance and even though he fell under some pressure, the way the man handled himself in spite of it.  There was no clumsiness.  Not a single glass had been broken or bottle disturbed.  It was a sight to see.  Ollie didn’t want to throw him off of his groove by asking him to take his order or to ask, more importantly, what he had meant when he said that last night.  He heard a loud crash when he finally caught Stan’s attention.  The whole tray of drinks fell out of Stan’s hands and onto the floor.  Ollie started off of his stool, shocked by the sound and more by the dazed look of confusion or was it...relief?  on Stan’s face as the glasses and tray went everywhere.  Stan shook his head and raised his hands, before going to the ground to pick up the broken glass and soon, Charlie was there with a mop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, Stanny...go take your break…you’re beat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure, Charlie?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...I got this...and George is coming in soon.  He’ll cover for ya, till you get back.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s swell, Charlie...thanks.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it...and I won’t mention this...Ole Leatherpuss is always lookin’ for a reason.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan clapped Charlie on the back in thanks and went down the bar to the spot where Ollie was looking back at him, concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan couldn’t stop the smile from creeping over his face as it tugged at the corner of his lips.  Usually he played things nonchalant and cool, but for some reason he just wanted to smile.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>*He came!*  </span>
  </em>
  <span> Shut up!  He went and leaned up against the bar propping his chin up with his hand, elbow on the bar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fancy seeing you here!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ollie did a double-take. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...what I mean to say is...well you know what I mean...you’re always over…there.”  He said pointing to the shadows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t a guy sit somewhere else if he feels like it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...what’s the matter with it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing...just saying hi is all…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi…”  Came Oliver’s begrudged reply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan couldn’t stop the silly look that he had adopted and Ollie frowned at him in return.  He was trying to form the question, but couldn’t really think when the other man was staring at him like he had just given him the best present he wanted on Christmas.  It was very unnerving but not in a bad way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want something to drink?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...that’s why one usually comes to a place like this...I would think.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not always…”  Stan said, emphasizing that he knew why Ollie came.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ollie growled and Stan turned his back to get Ollie what he normally liked to start off with.  A glass of Sassafras Root Beer.  He put down a coaster and set the drink on it and folded his arms as he watched Ollie think it over and be forced to admit, he was that predictable.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drank it down and finished with a satisfied ‘Ahhh…’  and licked his lips.  Stan watched, pleased with himself.  Ollie put a nickel on the bar.  He glanced around the bar and club...just trying to find a way to broach the question.  He didn’t just want to come right out and say it had been bugging him.  The place had calmed down.  It was getting to the mid-hours of the evening and people were dancing slowly to softer music and there was a lot of chatting at tables and laughter.  Ollie scanned for any available single girls that happened to be alone or with other girl friends.  He saw a table that looked promising.  He turned back to Stan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stanley was following Ollie’s trail of view and bit his lip softly as he too, saw the table full of single girls.  He didn’t know why he felt a sudden twinge of jealousy in his belly.  He brushed it away.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean…last night...when you said that you wouldn’t refuse me?”  Ollie said out of the corner of his mouth before turning to face Stan and look him in the eye.  He was about to show him how tough he was...if this turned out to be anything other than a misunderstanding or twisting of words.  He frowned menacingly at Stan and balled his fists.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan dropped his gaze.  He tried to look at Ollie like he didn’t know what he was talking about.  He shifted on his feet a couple of times.  Ollie tapped on the bar, impatient.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“OH...oh that…”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That...that wasn’t anything...what I meant was...well...what I meant to say…”  Stan stalled.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...what did you mean to say??”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I meant to say...that you know ladies...girls...dames...they should want to go out with you.  They should want you to buy them drinks.  They should want you to ask them to dance and be happy with them...is all I meant.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ollie looked back at Stanley as he spoke.  His face was so innocent and pure.  He watched the bartender shyly make figure eights on the bar with his finger as he spoke.  His voice was so soft and shy...that one could read more into the meaning behind his words.  Ollie was quiet.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a nice fella...you have to be.  I’ve never once seen you raise your voice, or start any trouble...or throw your weight arou…”  He stopped short.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright...I get it…”  Stan sat another drink in front of him.  Ollie grabbed it and shoved away from the bar he went to go to his usual table leaving Stan to look after him as he left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver needed the excuse to get away.  He got the answer he wanted and that should have been that.  He was getting too mixed up with someone he didn’t want to start being friends with.  Not that Ollie knew he couldn’t use one or two.  Stan seemed nice.  He just didn’t know.  He had stopped trusting a lot of people when he became a lawyer.  He had seen it all.  He also did a lot of work and didn’t really have time for friendships...still.  He looked back at the bar and Stan was standing there watching him with an apologetic look.  Ollie rolled his eyes and left the drink at the table.  He knew what he *was* here after...and that was all the friendship he wanted for the moment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He straightened out the imaginary wrinkles in his suit. He put his customary smile on his face and confidently strolled to the ladies’ table at the edge of the dancefloor.  They had been laughing and carrying on and pointing at all the dancers and laughing at the waiters as they tried to deliver desserts to tables, dodging dancing patrons.  They were having a great time and getting very tipsy off of the bubbly drinks they were all consuming.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan could see it coming a mile away.  He saw it in their faces as Ollie approached the table.  A couple of the girls nudged each other pointing in Ollie’s direction.  A couple of others rolled their eyes.  A couple more rudely giggled and nodded.  This was not going to end well.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon me, Ladies…”  Ollie said very gentlemanly and flourished his hat to his elbow.  Stan had eased himself closer to the table so that he could hear what was happening.  The girls stopped laughing and looked up at Ollie...a lot of their faces not betraying the disgust they felt instantly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering...if any of you wouldn’t mind if I bought a round of drinks for your charming table.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Light, uncomfortable  laughter and a few more pokes to the ribs and pointing.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also...if any of you wouldn’t mind the pleasure of my company, I would love to join you for those drinks…”  Ollie said in a sing-song voice and he twiddled his tie nervously at them.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t he silly…”  One of the ladies said.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah he is rather thick-headed, isn’t he?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of the girls blatantly started teasing him under their breath, saying that they shouldn’t let livestock in bars and how outdated his suit was.  Ollie apparently heard none of it.  He was making smiles and his dimples came out as he looked at each one becoming smitten.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...we’ll have a drink…” One of the older women said, shushing her friends...if they could get free drinks they could play this sucker along for a while.  Ollie was ecstatic.  He motioned for Stan to come over quickly and take their drink orders.  Stan was not pleased.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> hear the rude comments and saw the gleams of mischief in their eyes and saw how they were treating him.  He stood there until Ollie impatiently went to go and drag him to their table.  He let himself be dragged.  He wanted none of this.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stan...take their drink orders...it’s on my tab.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan frowned at each of them individually.  He didn’t even want to try and play nice.  He just wanted them to pack up and leave and go be hateful somewhere else.  This was a cruel game they were playing.  He’d seen it too often before.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatd’ya want?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now...Stanley...that’s not any way to talk to a table full of beautiful girls.”  Ollie admonished him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh...excuse me...What’dya want...please.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ollie shook his head, exasperated.  Stan boredly took their orders and kept trying to motion for Ollie to come talk to him for a minute.  Ollie ignored him.  He took the paper he was writing on and shuffled back to the bar...he was in no hurry to be polite.  He caught the tail end of their conversation as he grit his teeth and angrily made his way behind the bar.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...there’s no room for you at our table, Fatty...but you can sit anywhere else...we don’t mind.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later after the drinks were delivered and drank...a dejected Oliver Hardy made his way to the bar to pay for his tab.  He was too polite to take back his offer of drinks after he had high hopes that one of the girls would take pity on him and let him treat her to a dance or ode to her beauty.  He had watched them drink his offerings from his own shadowy table and watched as they laughed and pointed fingers at him where he sat.  He approached Stan who was taking over the register while George was taking care of the patrons.  It was all Stanley could do not to go over there and punch one of those nasty girls right in the nose.  He didn’t want to see Ollie pay for any of their drinks.  He looked at Ollie, sympathy in his eyes.  Ollie didn’t want to admit that Stan was right again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take care of it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You won’t...you can’t use your paycheck to pay for my mistakes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ollie held out the couple of bucks to Stan and Stanley reluctantly took the bills, his fingers closing over Ollie’s ever-so-slightly as he did so.  A tiny thrill shot up his arm.  He jumped a little, biting his lip and took the money.  He wasn’t sure if Ollie felt the same thrill, but there was definitely something there.  He was about to say something but Ollie had turned his back and walked out the door of The Pink Pup.  Stan looked after him.  If only there was something he could do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that night, when he finally closed up shop, Stan Laurel walked down the street to his little boarding house.  He had a room on the second floor and it was right next door to a local theater.  It was a rundown neighborhood on a bad side of town, but the room was cheap because the theatre was loud...at all hours of the night.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan had learned street smarts.  The dark and ominous alleyways didn’t scare him.  The shady characters on the street corners didn’t bother him.  He had learned how to take care of himself.  He had learned how to fight...on those streets.  He wasn’t afraid.  He had gotten into many scraps growing up.  Especially when anyone learned or thought he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that way</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  There had been so many bloody noses and bruised knuckles...but no one would push him around.  He was preoccupied and lost in thought.  He wanted to help Ollie.  He wanted his new friend to like him.  He wanted to do something.  He considered Ollie a friend already and that meant he had to do something to fix things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People had started pouring out of the theatre and into the streets.  They were laughing and talking and getting into cars and pointing at the poster on the outside marquee.  It was a poster for a play called… ‘Is She Or Isn’t She?’  The poster had what was clearly a man in drag holding up a flower pot and hiking up his stockings.  Stan cocked his head.  He looked at the poster again.  A smile formed on his lips as he sauntered his way around the side of the building and looked for a way to get inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
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